Bloody valentine
by kawaiiokama
Summary: the notorious prisoner Beyond birthday has been enlisted to help hunt down the serial killer known as 'kira'. a little bit of lemon eventually, fits in with cannon too, if you squeeze it. ADOPTED
1. Chapter 1

Bloody valentine chapter one

So I wrote this, making a pact with myself chapter one would be spawned by Valentine's day.

…

More chapters coming. they are only short ones, so yeap.

Free commissions yaddah yadahh…

Don't own any characters blah blah blah excetera…

BEGIN!

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><p>CHAPTER ONE- SHINIGAMI<p>

The figure of a one, Beyond Birthday, lay flat on his back on the bunk bed he called his own that night, deep in sleep. What he dreamt of, it's not hard to tell, the cruel smile pulling at thin, flushed lips revealed sharp white canines and a sort of beautiful flash of animosity, shining like a blade catching the light. It is fair to say, the prison guard watching the live tape of the young man in his slumber, that whatever dream he was having it was good. Sexual. Sensual.

Discomfort shifted in the gut of the guard, as he sipped his coffee and looked away from the monitor. Knowing the history of prisoner four, Beyond, the fantasies swirling in that dark yet brilliant mind could only be those of a foul and evil nature. Of death and blood and toxicity it didn't serve any good to think of.

He switched his surveillance to prisoner twelve, and continued drinking his coffee.

In the cell downstairs, right in the heart of the institution, Beyond Birthday inhaled sharply in his sleep, rolling over and burying his face in the white cased pillow supplied by the taxpayers of San Francisco. His left arm, resting above his head, stretched to its full length, slender and defined, his body arched and he groaned deliciously, stirred by the dreams weaving between axions and riding on chemical transmissions. His mind buzzed with life, flashes and bursts of silver and black and red, the taste of salt and copper, sterile cool steel and the scent of roses. A mess of silky black hair fell across his face as he tossed and turned again, writhing and clawing at his pillow. Large, black lashed eyes snapped open with a gasp. A jerk, a shaky, manic smile spread across his sharp, not unattractive features and he laughed, a mad, animal sound that woke his cellmate, as well as those around him.

Rolling onto his back, Beyond Birthday giggled hysterically, hugging his pillow to his chest, tears rolling down soft, snowy cheeks.

Though his cellmate, Boris the trucker who had beaten a man to death with a barstool, didn't like the boy, he said nothing, curling up in his bed, heart stricken with fear.

Beyond did that to a man you see. Temptation with a wicked smile, sweet lips, and bloodlust in his eyes, he had a laugh that chilled you, got under your skin and cut you, made you feel all cold and terrified.

And then he killed you while you slept.

Boris wasn't Beyond's first roommate, you know.

...x...

Far across the world in a typical teenaged boys bedroom, Light Yagami studied the notebook, turning yellowing, crumbing pages with shaking hands.

'Death Note.' He repeated slowly, rolling the words around his mouth. Behind him, the Shinigami called Ryuk leered. 'Whoever's name is written in this notebook shall die…'


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO- CONSIDERATION

Morning in the prison was a cold, joyless affair. Rising at eight, pulling on uniform orange jumpsuits, then out into the cafeteria for 'food' and slightly off flavoured water.

Studying his face in a mirrored shard no bigger than a coin, Beyond ran his fingertips over the smooth milky flesh on his nose, over his lips and down to the side of his neck. Beneath the surface, he felt strange texture. A rough knotting not visible on the surface. Truth is, much of Beyond's skin was in fact scar tissue. Smooth yet somehow matte and porcelain. With a pleased smile, he reached for the pot of charcoal powder he kept on the cracked communal sink and unscrewed it. Prisoners knew better than to mess with his charcoal, and so it was relatively safe there. After smearing some around his eyes, Beyond held the mirror shard up to study the effect, and was pleased with what he saw. His eyes, pupils wide and glowing with bloody garnet, reflected in the glass were quite beautiful. Beyond had been blessed in an odd way since childhood, with a spine chilling ageless beauty. Perhaps it came from seeing himself through those red eyes, often times he wondered if he was the only one seeing what was reflected in the mirror, but really he didn't care what others thought of him, so it didn't matter.

Slipping the shard of mirror beneath his tongue, he left his cell and sauntered down the corridor to the mess hall, the eyes of every guard he passed raking him curiously. He noticed that one man, a small fellow with a mean look and a moustache, was due to die that day. At ten am, none the less. The flickering numbers above a persons head never lied.

Beyond entered the hall. It was about eight thirty, and he was late, but he didn't care. A matron pushed him a tray of food. Bread, slightly grey musli, and a pat of butter. A delicate eyebrow arched, the young man raised a thumb to his bottom lip.

"No jam?"

He spoke with an oddly breathy, slightly lilted voice that made the hair on the back of the matrons neck prickle.

"Not today."

"Hm. Okay then." Beyond passed his tray back over the counter and smiled, the flash of mirror under his tongue lent a dangerous glint to his grin. "Never mind. I'm not hungry."

"Now you look here number four." The prison guard with the moustache, destined to die in a few more hours, approached from behind. The thunk of a knight stick in his hand, the clomp of boots over concrete.

Sighing, the prisoner pushed his fringe out of his eyes and rasied his chin in defiance.

"Yes?"

"Eat it."

He beckoned for the try to be re-offered, it received a mildly distasteful look from Beyond before he waved his hand dismissively and went to leave. The prison guard stuck out his arm.

"Now you look here, Birthday boy. We all know you have a rep. We all know that at this moment the likelihood of you having a shank or some kind of weapon concealed somewhere on your freakass body is around ninety percent,"

"One hundred." A pleasant interjection, Beyond ran his tongue over the shard of glass in his mouth once more, but the officer made no sign that he had heard him.

"But I have a big gun, and those men all have big guns, and if you don't eat we will not hesitate to strap you up and put you in solitary. Nothing you can do can harm us, because we have the law and weaponry on our side. Don't try and defy us again."

"Really?" Not at all interested, the dark eyes of Beyond Birthday flicked to the shimmering numbers above this man's head. A semi smile, he stared off into the distance and spun, taking the tray of food graciously. "Well then, I suppose I have no choice."

The police officer nodded in approval as prisoner four walked away.

...line...

Raito Yagami lay on his bed, flicking through the pages of the notebook carefully. It was almost blank, but for the couple of names he himself had entered in there, and seemed to have a eerie, ageless quality about it.

"Can I have this?" The long boy fingers of Shinigami Ryuk brushed the surface of an apple on the side table. Raito nodded absent mindedly and with a delighted cackle the death god consumed the whole thing in one gulp. Not a particularly plesant thing to observe, but Raito was far away. Thinking.

Whoever's name is written in this note shall die.

Sighing, he leaned over, set the note down where the apple had been a few second earlier, and flicked off his lamp.

Sleep would come later for the boy as he lay there in the dark, but not yet. Because now, in the recesses of his mind, realisation was dawning.

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><p>i own nothing.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE- NUMBERS

Beyond Birthday surveyed his guard from above pented fingers. The man, a slender, fairly youthful fellow sporting a pair of cheep +1.5 glasses and a mop of dark red hair, shuffled uncomfortably and stared at the wall in front of him. He felt like a morsel of meat under such a gaze. Beyond smiled, baring a sharp white canine, and tilted his head to his side.

"White Wedding."

The guard looked up in shock at the sound of the name and swiveled large turquoise eyes to prisoner four.

"What did you say?"

"White Wedding, that's your name right? You are new here."

Swallowing nervously, he squirmed back in his chair. Though there was a desk between them, it wasn't enough. This prisoner gave him a chill that scraped talons on his bones. It made every hair on his head stand on end. And he had guessed his name. His real name, the one he hadn't used since he legally changed it to 'Hope Clarke' three years ago.

"No. And what gives you the right to talk to me? Sit still and shut up." His words were braver than he felt.

The smile stretching the lips of the beauty opposite grew wider, because what White Wedding didn't know was that he could see the numbers and letters shimmering above his auburn head. And those details never lied.

"Born July 1988, death date… October 2052."

White Wedding stiffened in his chair, his grip on his gun beneath the table became white knuckled.

"Sir, please remain silent"

Beyond dropped his hands and batted long lashed dark eyes, the smile on his face grew smaller, reduced to a dangerously sweet curve, and he rested his chin on his knees calmly. White was struck again by the weird nature of his sitting habits, perched crouched on a small plastic chair, he looked no less comfortable than he would have seated in a massive fluffy armchair. It was… unnerving. Like everything else pertaining to him.

And thankfully, the door to the plain interrogation room they were in opened before he could speak again.

"Okay, officer Clarke, thank you." The man who entered was large, dressed in an expensive suit and sporting an impressive moustache, he had an entourage with him, a few cops and guards and even an enthusiastic looking reporter with a camera. Beyond didn't remove his eyes from the officer as he stood hurriedly and left the room without a backward glance.

White Wedding got to go home that evening. He sat in his house and stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long time, not seeing the numbers counting down above his head but thinking carefully of them.

Say Beyond Birthday had been right?

Say he only had forty or so more years to live.

White Wedding decided he had better make the most of them, and back at the prison Beyond left the interrogation room smiling, a copy of yesterday's newspaper clutched between delicate fingers.

...

The pen clattered to the table. Raito flicked through the book. Two weeks worth of names etched in black ink on the pages, every single one of them belonging to a dead man. Disappointingly, there was still on name missing.

"L…" He murmured the letter under his breath, although he'd only known it for a few days, it already filled him with an unpleasant chill.

"What is it, Raito?" Ryuk, crunching on a shiny red apple, edged into Ratio's line of vision and the human scowled, slamming the book shut.

"Nothing, Ryuk. Nothing I can't sort out myself. I will simply find out L's name and kill him. Easy."

"Well, if you are keen on the eye-deal…"

"No, Ryuk." Raito reached for the newspaper he had been using earlier to find names and opened it to a random page, the world news section. Tucked in the far left corner, the pale, eerily beautiful face of a man probably only a few years older than him stared at him with smoky newsprint eyes, a story entitled 'San Francisco embraces controversial justice techniques as a prisoner is enlisted to help bring serial killer to justice.' Though the section donated to the article was tiny, amber eyes scanned it lazily. Raito snorted.

"Now this is interesting, Ryuk… listen. 'Convicted serial killer Beyond Birthday, twenty-four, has been contacted today by the American FBI in the hopes that he will agree to help apprehend a new type of criminal… blah blah blah… 'the details of this case are classified, states the commissioner etcetera. Beyond Birthday, with an IQ of near 179, was the criminal responsible for the famous Los Angeles BB murder cases a few years ago. Birthday was only seventeen at the time'."

Raito frowned and turned on his table lamp, so he could see the man pictured a little clearer. He had dark hair, tousled and shiny, and glittery black eyes, half cast in that shot as though he was particularly bored with whatever was going on. A straight nose, razor sharp and proud, and his thumb pressed against the bottom swell of his dark lips, Raito thought dully that if anyone looked like a man who would slit your throat with a silver knife it was this one. Forget those sleazy skinhead guys in dark alleys, unshaven, unclean, with crooked noses and yellowed teeth. The ones you really had to watch out for were the ones with class. Beyond Birthday radiated this dangerous, almost sexual class. The expression he wore stirred a strange emotion in Ratio's stomach.

Raito Yagami put the newspaper down and reached for the death note once more, finding a blank page. Beyond Birthday, what a queer name. He almost liked the sound of it.

"Can I see his picture?" Ryuk lent over Ratio's shoulder and the boy clicked his tongue in irritation.

"Ryuk, don't be a pain."

"Wait, don't you want me to make sure it's the right name."

Reluctantly, the newspaper was handed over.

Raito studied closely when Ryuk's eyes widened in surprise, and actually jumped when the shinigami let out a low, creaky cackle. Dusty laughter echoed in the bedroom, and Ryuk dropped the newspaper to the floor. The pages fluttered innocently as it fell.

"Ryuk, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing, Raito. But don't worry. That's the right name."

The green light. Raito's pen hovered over the page, but hesitation left him unsure.

What had Ryuk found so funny?

And why was the image of the criminal flickering in and out of focus in his mind?

There was something odd about Beyond Birthday, Raito decided, setting down the pen. Something very odd indeed.

When he looked at the picture once more, Raito couldn't see any numbers floating above Beyond's head.

But then again, even with his shinigami eyes, Ryuk couldn't either.

...

alas, i have a sad something to say today.

for complicated personal reasons, i am retiring this story.

my apologies to anyone who was subscribed. HOWEVER... it is up for adoption, if anyone wishes to take it under their wing.

deathnote does not belong to me. thank you all.


	4. Chapter 4

*...THIS STORY IS ADOPTED...*

Many thanks to A Abstract, who adopted and continued it.

Link to next part is as follows: ht tp: /www .fanfiction .net/s /7084136 /1/Bloody _Valentine

Remove spaces for best results.

Thank you, and give the new author love- :3

Kawaiiokama.


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